My old husband - referred to as the Ex although we're not divorced, merely living apart - turned 78 on Friday. We married 29 years ago because he thought it was a terrible sin for us to live together but he wouldn't let me move out. So I caved & got married for the second time - even though I swore, yes swore, that I would never do it again after the first time around. He's a nice man, really likes women & gets along well with them, he's steady, stable, loves animals, putters in his yard, saves his money, doesn't drink or smoke but I can't live with him. He wants to be joined at the hip, I need my space. So I moved out, just up the road, 18 years ago. We get along very well these days. I take him to most of his medical appointments & sometimes we go grocery shopping. We meet every Friday for lunch in a little truck stop cafe where everyone knows us & a couple of times a month we go for Chinese food on Sundays. He paid my rent for two years when I was unable to work & I gave him a spousal Visa card. A truly modern marriage.
There's nothing much I can buy him & his sock cupboard overflows. So for his birthday, I took him for Chinese food, ordered some things he would never try on his own & made sure he took enough home for two more meals. It was great. And he found out he actually liked Tofu Hot Pot. Happy Birthday, Old Bean.
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